A Flair For Rowdiness
by wrestlefan4
Summary: Collection of OST's with Roddy Piper/Ric Flair. Other legends will make appearances from time to time. Old school is cool, check it out fool! ;
1. Back Seat Bumpin

_**A/N: Many but not all of the short stories in this **__**series**__** are result of or inspired by rp with Thorsmaven, so thanks Thor for all the fun times and inspiration! Ric n' Roddy will always be the main pairing, but there will be guest appearances by other legends too. :) **_

_**Ric n' Roddy ftw! Old school is cool!**_

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A Flair For Rowdiness: Backseat Bumpin'

Alright kiddies, here's the deal. I've got too many stories rattling around in this old head of mine so I guess I might as well jot 'em down and stick 'em all in one place. So hold onto your seat and don't spill your popcorn--here we go.

I've probably told you all this before, but Ric Flair was a big Caddy man. He loved those cars like they were babies or something. Only problem was, something was always going wrong with them. I don't think they were built to handle the likes of us and our wild adventures. I mean, some of the shit we got into seems like something out of a crazy story rather than a couple of real lifes. Hell, I know I've taken a good many blows to the head over years but you can ask Ric—I'm not making this shit up, even I couldn't make this stuff up! I think what it was is that when you put me and Ric together, it just fucks with the whole natural order of things—give us some alcohol and you really have a problem!

Anyway, about Ric's Caddy thing. Well, his latest Caddy had been done away with due to a hurricane. That idiot Jim Crockett who I "affectionately" called Betty Crocker sent us down to Florida and we had to ride out the storm in a Piggly Wiggly. After some threatening, and shouting from both Ric, and me, Crocker begrudgingly reimbursed Ric for his car.

Of course, Ric didn't know nothing about cars so he decided he should take me along to help pick out his next ride. Here we were at this little used car lot that Ric had picked out. The parkling lot was full of pot holes and those little triangle pendants were twitching pathetically on the breeze like they were some kind of dying bugs or something, all sun-faded and ripped up. Ric had a way of putting us in bad places, and this didn't look to be too promising.

"Well Rod, what do you think?" Ric asked, shoving his sunglasses up into his bleached hair. He fiddled with the collar on his shirt, and then with the little hanky thing he had in the pocket of his blazer.

"You look great Ric!" I whacked him playfully on the shoulder, causing him to stumble forwards a couple of steps.

"Not me, goon. I mean the cars!" He retorted, bending over to wipe off a scuff mark on his boot. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my jeans, resisting the urge to land a slap on his ass. If I would have done that, he might've had to upgrade his opinion of me from "goon" to "perv".

"I know what you mean." I said, glancing around at the lemons and rust heaps. Here and there I caught a few prospects. Most of the best looking ones were parked up front in order to draw attention. They all sat there in a neat little row, the bright paint jobs catching the sun and winking like gigantic candies done up in shiny wrappers. "Huh, how about that one?" I pointed towards a Caddy parked near the back. It was a real classic—the top was down showing off the fine leather interior, chrome all around, big pretty fins, I could see Ric in that thing shouting Woooooo all the way down the highway and it made me laugh. He looked at me skeptically.

"Hell, I dunno Pipes. I am kinda flashy but that might be a bit too much even for me."

"It's pink Ric, you got a problem with the color pink?"

"It looks like a tit, that's what!"

We both cracked up laughing. I don't know what Ric was thinking of, but I was thinking about him cruising a giant nipple in the fast lane. Look, I didn't start the tit thing, Ric did so don't blame me.

"Hello there gentlemen, Sil's my name, and cars are my game! There anything I can help you boys with?"

All of a sudden there was a third guy there with us—ugly son of a gun. Those guys really do sneak up on you like sharks! I looked him over once and he was the typical greaseball car dealer. He looked like he could have been a former promoter—because you know they're all slimeballs too. He had craters all in his face, a big red nose, and he looked like he put a tub of fucking butter on his hair.

"Well seeing how we're here at a car dealership, I guess we want a car." I put a stupid grin on my face, getting across my point of sarcasm. Geeze, what a piece of work!

"You've come to the right place friends! We've got all kinds, what do you have in mind?"

"Something that's not gonna break down once we get two miles down the road." Ric put in.

"Oh, we only sell and trade the best used cars here at Lucky Leon's!" The greaseball bragged, grinning to show off his staggered horse teeth.

"How about that one over there?" Ric pointed to a flash of gold down at the end of a row.

"Ah, that one's a real beaut. She purrs real nice too." The Sil guy took off towards the one Ric had pointed out, and we followed him over there. It wasn't a Caddy, but it did look real nice.

"1978 Lincoln Mark." Sil said, patting one of his fat oily palms against the hood. "She's only got a few years on 'er, low mileage, a real sweet little number." He noticed a spot on the windshield where some unsuspecting insect had met its demise there. Sil stuck the end of his finger into his mouth, wet it, and then scrubbed at the spot on the windshield making a squeaky noise.

"Don't do that!" Ric groaned. It was practically a sob. He shoved the greaseball out of the way and took the hanky thing out of the pocket of his blazer, and scowled as he polished the spit-splotch on the windshield.

"Wanna take 'er for a spin?" Sil offered. He kicked one of the back tires."She rides real well, just like my old lady!" He cough-laughed, sending more spray onto the glimmering gold paintjob. Ric went to polishing again, looking just ready to beat the dog out of the shark.

Ric straightened up and frowned at his ruined hanky before handing it to me. I guess he didn't want to put the dirty thing back in the pocket of his blazer, so I just wadded it up into the back pocket of my jeans.

"Hey, don't that tire look over-inflated?" I asked Sil. He waved his hand dismissively.

"Nah, I aired 'em up myself they're fine." As if to demonstrate, he went to kicking again. Ric's face was turning that special shade of reddish-purple and getting darker with each punt.

"This is it Pipes, this is the one." Ric hissed to me, his eye twitching as there was another 'thunk' to one of the tires. "I gotta rescue her!" Ric said, turning back and reverently petting the car.

So, this was why Ric had such shitty luck with cars! He just snagged up the first pretty one that he fell in love with. It might have been the same reason he had such bad luck with women, too. I guess he learned his lesson with me, 'cause I know he didn't pick me out of the crowd for a beauty!

"Listen that's great Ric, but we better drive it around first and make sure it's not a heap of bolts."

"The guy said she drives great." Ric was only half speaking to me, he had that dreamy voice and look of a kid gushing over his first crush in a girly mag or something.

"Are you kidding? If this thing was sitting up on blocks, missing the engine, he'd say it runs great! He's a greasy fucker, it's what he does."

So I got the keys from Sil the Shark and Ric and I went for a little test drive. Ric was all smiles, his foot like lead as we sped down a lonely country road with the windows rolled down, the wind whipping through our hair. It was great. Sil was right, the Mark was pretty damn fine. It rode real fine, on top of being a charm with immaculate white leather interior, and hot damn—an 8-Track player even!

"Well?" Ric asked, revving the engine a couple of times.

"You don't want her to go back to that idiot, do ya?"

"Hell no! She needs someone to treat her with respect, for the beautiful lady she is."

"Say 'I do' Ric." I joked, laughing like an idiot. Ric paled.

"Rod, I will never say those two damning words ever again brother!"

We both laughed.

After a couple of moments we went quiet. I just watched the fields pass us by as Ric moved the car over the country road. The sky was a bright blue, a few puffs of clouds, hung over the tall green cornstalks. It was kind of pretty. The sky reminded me of Ric's eyes. Yeah, sappy I know but it did anyway. I glanced over at him, and noticed that he kept shifting his gaze to the mirror.

"Nice back seat too." Ric commented. I noticed he wasn't ramming the accelerator through the floor like he was before.

"Yeah, roomy ain't it?"

"Oh yeah, real roomy looking." Ric moved the car towards the side of the road and brought it to a stop. "But um, you know what you were saying earlier Pipes, about not judging by how something looks. You have to try it out, right?"

A slow grin spread over my face.

"Ha, you dog!" Well, he didn't have to tell me twice. I started to climb over the back seat, giving out a shout when both of Ric's hands grabbed my ass and shoved me headfirst into the leather bench. He laughed at me as he made his way to the back too. "Come here, you!"

I hauled him back there and into my lap. He pushed me down against the seat, sitting on my waist with a mischievous look sparkling in his eyes. It didn't take us long to get to steaming up the windows. Soon the spacious interior was littered with our clothes and my skin was stuck to the leather material. I was almost surprised Ric was going for such a thing, after all any car he owned (or apparently, took for a test drive) became his baby and he would kill anyone who put a smudge on it. I guess sex trumps car, and after all that's what Armor-All was made for, wasn't it?

"Good shock absorbers…" I panted as we went after each other, rocking that boat.

"Shut up, Pipes." Ric barked, and ravished my mouth so I couldn't say any more smart ass things.

The car kept rocking and rocking, then in the throes of passion there was a loud bang, and the car rocked too much. Ric let out an unmanly yelp.

"Ah, shit." I grumbled, recognizing the sound and feeling of the car slumping to one side.

"What did I do!" Ric slapped his palm to his sweaty forehead.

"You popped me." I joked, but it was kind of a bad one, even for me.

"I killed my car Roddy!" Ric scrambled back into the front seat and out of the car, naked as the day he was born. I followed him, grabbing my jeans and stumbling into them once my feet hit the loose dirt at the side of the road.

"You didn't kill it Ric, the tire blew. I knew that damn thing was over-inflated." I growled as I joined Ric by the flat back tire. He was looking down at it with the saddest look on his face.

"Y'know Naitch, considering the circumstances…it's kinda funny."

"My poor Linc…"

"There there, it's alright." I mocked, patting Ric's shoulder. "Just gotta change it. Gimme the key for the trunk."

So, Ric stood out there in his birthday suit and watched me change the tire. I got it done and glanced over my shoulder as I started to tighten the bolts.

"What are you Naitch, a voyeur or something?"

"Huh?"

"You're standing there watching me screw. You enjoying it?"

Ric rolled his eyes, and crawled into the car to gather up his clothes.

After the car was back in working order, we took it back to the dealership and Ric bartered with that Sil guy over the price. Ric really didn't know much about cars, but he did seem to know when someone was trying to rip him off. I can still hear him—

"Do you know who I am? Do you know who I am fat boy!" And with that, he poked greaseball in the gut. "Woooo! I'm Ric Flair, I wipe shits like you off my ass, don't try to pull one over on me!" His face did that reddish-purple glow again.

I just stood there and watched, making sure not to lean up against Ric's new baby, and wondering if Ric was gonna land a chop or two to the guy. That poor son of a bitch, he didn't know what he was getting into when he took us on as customers. He looked rightly scared. If I had to join in—and I almost did just for fun—ol' Slick Sil would have probably pissed himself.

Ric did have great luck with that car. Only downside to it was, he refused to ever get dirty in the back seat again.


	2. Horsing Around

_**A/N: Just thought I would throw this out here fyi...according to a youtube vid I watched of MTV Cribs showing Roddy's home, Roddy does for real say that he's afraid of horses. His wife has them, and he says that he'll pet and brush the horses but won't ever get on one. So, yeah. That inspired this one. :-)**_

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A Flair For Rowdiness: Horsing Around

Hey come here, you want to hear this story about Roddy and the horse? Yeah, it's me Ric. Roddy refused to tell this story and he doesn't want me too either. He tried to scare me with threats of coconuts, but hell I don't care. Roddy's nuts don't scare me.

So now you might be wondering to yourself what the big deal is about this 'horse story' and why my Hot Scot would be so growly and grumpy about its telling. Well, you might not believe me here, but the Rowdy One is afraid of horses. That's right, Rod's afraid of them. Hold on, let me stop laughing for a minute it's just that it's so damn fucking hilarious. Don't tell Roddy I said so.

Now, me and Roddy always got bored easily so we were always running around trying to find something to occupy our misspent time. Some of the stuff we found to do was within reason, most if it wasn't. Some of it was within the law, some of it…well you get the idea. There was this one time we tried to get Ricky, you know Steamboat, we tried to get him stoned. Hey, come on, the guy needed to loosen up a little. Sweet little Ricky was always so straight laced. We caused a lot of those silver hairs to take over his do, most likely, with our insanity.

But the horse thing, that was one that I've never let old Roderick live down. He has a few that he won't let me live down either, so I'd say we're pretty even. I bet he's told you all of mine anyway so I'm only being fair.

Roddy and I were tooling around in one of my Caddys, and damn it was gorgeous. I remember exactly which one and every curve of her hot little body. That was before I forsook my beloved Caddy for that Linc Roddy helped pick. But anyhow, you don't care much about my Caddy fascination.

We were so bored, and that was a bad place for two trouble makers like us to be in. We had beer, as if that was out of the ordinary, and that was our breakfast, and lunch. By afternoon we were out of our minds drunk and I bet I was weaving that damn car all over the road, but that time the Caddy made it out alive. We were laughing and being loud mouths, and Roddy was singing 'Do Wah Diddy Diddy' complete with his attempt at a falsetto—whoa, I told him to never do that again. Roddy can do a lot of things, but sing like he's got a tree shoved up his ass isn't one of them.

I made him fucking stop that singing. Told him I was going to go deaf and blind all at the same time, and when that didn't work I just shoved my hand over his mouth and the Caddy wove even worse. He pulled my hand off of his mouth and acted like he was mad at me, but hell I knew he wasn't. It's easy to tell real mad Roddy from fake mad Roddy. The real one—you don't want to fuck with.

"Ooh, hey looky over there Ri-hic!" Roddy hiccupped, and pointed out the window.

The way he said it had me giggling, he sounded like an awed little kid seeing something extraordinarily wonderful. All I saw him pointing to was a pasture full of a bunch of horses. I reached over and patted him on the head.

"Yes Roderick, see the pretty horses?"

"Yeah, but I don't like 'em." He put in, narrowing his eyes at the animals as we passed.

I think I was driving maybe ten miles per hour by then or something. We were just creeping along because I was pretty sure if I didn't stop soon I was going to land us both into a ditch. Although, that wouldn't have been the first time we ended up nose first into a ditch, but that was Roddy's fault. If I would have been driving I would have been more careful but Roddy drives like he's blind, even when he's sober. I never tested it out but who knows, he might drive real well when he's wasted.

"You don't like horses? Shit Roddy, what kind of idiot doesn't like horses?"

"Me!" Roddy shouted defensively, jabbing his finger into his chest.

"What's wrong with horses, ya monkey." I pulled the car over to the side of the road, and swatted at him. We started up some stupid little smack fight.

"They're just…I-I don't know man, lemme alone!" Roddy fiddled around with the handle on the door, and finally managed to open it. Then, he just kinda fell out.

So I had to go get him, I mean I wasn't going to leave my best friend and my man just laying there like that. He's such an idiot sometimes I'm telling you. But he's my idiot.

"Rod, you better get up. The evil horses are gonna get you." I said, leaning over him and laughing again so hard that I started to cry.

"Where!" Roddy yelped, and was up like a flash and hiding behind me.

Roddy Piper, ladies and gentlemen: hiding from horses. I just about pissed myself! I had on this really good suit though, and I didn't want to ruin it so I managed to hold on. I'm not really sure why I was wearing a suit just to go out drinking and driving but…I was. I told you we got drunk early. Hell, we might have even been fucked up the night before and just decided not to stop, I don't really remember.

"Damn Pipes, get a hold of yourself! They're gentle animals, they're not gonna hurt you."

I turned around and took his wrist, and tried to guide him over to the fence where one of the brown horses had come up. She was watching us both, and poking her nose up over the fence.

"No, I don't wanna. Naitch, let go of me before I beat the dog outta ya!"

Roddy twisted his wrist free, and took off running. Where the hell was he running to? Fuck if I know, crazy bat. Sometimes I wonder if he's playing with a full deck of cards, but then again he's asked me the same thing a time or two. I guess if you put us together you'll get all your aces and kings and shit alright.

"Rod, what the? Where the fuck are you going?"

I trudged along after him, wading through the tall grass. Damn it all, I was getting my good shoes—well not that I have any _bad_ ones but you know what I mean--all mucked up with mud. Why the hell did I wear those to go out trouble-making anyway? I never could get them all cleaned up again, and I made sure to mope real good and long over that.

"Roddy!"

I called after him, and then shook my head as I saw him flop down into the tall grass way down the road and just sit there. I took my time getting to him and once I was there I just quirked an eyebrow at him. He tilted his head up at me.

"What, Ric?"

"You know, you're gonna get ticks up your ass." I said, reaching to the inside pocket of my coat to look for a handkerchief to wipe my forehead with. I found a half-drained bottle of Crown Royal instead and gulped some of it.

"You can pick 'em out with your big teeth then." Roddy grumbled.

"Ha, I don't think so Pipes. You can pick 'em out with your own teeth if you can bend that way."

"Do I look like a cartoonist to you?"

"A…what?"

He meant contortionist, but there was too much alcohol for it to come out right. We both just looked at each other, drunk as hell, and then lost it laughing. I plopped down on my knees next to Roddy and handed him the bottle of Crown, as if he needed anymore.

Cartoonist, ha. That kind of became a joke with us that no one else ever got. I remember once when Ricky was bitching us out about something and he said to us 'I bend over backwards for you dumb asses!' and I was standing there trying not to laugh, and then Roddy had to say 'Oh Steamy, I didn't know you were a cartoonist!' and we both just fell over each other snorting and braying. Ricky just shook his head, as usual. If Ricky was there the day of the horse thing, he would have led us both back to the car and made us behave like good little boys while he drove us back to the hotel, just so we could sit and look boredly at the four walls, and find new ways to drive the poor kid insane. But, Steamy wasn't there.

"Listen Roddy," I finally managed, after my giggles had dried up some. "I'm sorry about the horse thing but…you really should try to conquer your fears, right?"

Roddy didn't say much, just plucked out a long strand of grass and went to tying it in knots. I picked one of the wild flowers that was growing there, and hung the stem behind Roddy's ear. He looked like a hippie, but I don't think he even noticed I put it there.

"I don't like it when you're right." He sighed.

I smirked over at him smugly.

"But Pipes, I'm always right. Woooo!"

Roddy sighed, and got up. He wobbled around a little, then offered his hand to help me up.

"So, if I go touch the horse, then we can leave and get more Crown?" He asked, eying me skeptically.

"Oh no Roddy, I'm not talking about touching the horse. When I was chasing after you, I saw that sign over there. See the entrance?" I pointed towards a sign we had passed and obviously missed while goofing in the car. "That's a park over there, and those horses are for the trails."

Roddy scratched at his ear and messed with his hair the way he always does. He screwed it all up and I reached over and smoothed it out for him. Somehow that flower managed to hold on, and I still don't think he knew it was there.

"Horses…for the park…you mean like, to ride 'em?" He finally asked, putting two and two together after some thought.

"Yeah."

"No."

I rolled my eyes.

"Rod, come on! You don't have to ride one by yourself, I'll be right next to you on my horse."

"No!" Roddy started to head back for the car, and I jogged to catch up to him. I offered him the last of the Crown.

"Fine, you can ride one with me. I'll handle the reigns and everything and you can just sit pretty behind me with your arms wrapped around my waist."

"No, I ain't sitting on you with a horse. I mean…you know what I mean. Fuck. Besides, we're drunk out of our ever lovin' minds they're not gonna let us ride their horses like we are." He shoved the empty bottle of Crown into my hand.

"I have a solution." I tossed the emptied Crown bottle behind me and heard it shatter onto the road. I delved back into my pocket and brought out a packet of gum and a small bottle of cologne. "See, now we just use these, and pretend to be sober, and they won't suspect a thing."

I sprayed the cologne at Roddy and he made a big fucking deal over it, of course.

"Oh Ric, that stuff smells like shit!" He coughed, fanning his hand in front of his nose.

"Wow, thanks. So I smell like shit do I?"

"No, I mean not you…that toilet water!"

"Do you even know how much this tiny bottle of 'toilet water' costs?" I scowled at him, and handed him a piece of gum. "I'm stylin' and profilin'."

"This isn't gonna work, we're still gonna be drunk. We're just gonna be drunk and smelly."

"It will too work, now shut up and come on. You're riding a horse with me."

I dragged Roddy into the park and we found the stables. I paid the woman for our rides, and she brought out two gorgeous young horses. One was white with gray speckles, the other a dark chocolate brown with the prettiest honey-colored eyes, and long golden lashes. Roddy looked nervous, and took a couple steps back when the woman moved one of them towards him. The horse snuffled. Roddy cut his eyes to me and I couldn't help but laugh. He started to scowl.

"Just pet her nose, she's really sweet." The woman offered, patting the horses nose as an example.

"Jeepers ma'am, I don't know."

Jeepers, Roddy always killed me with that.

He reached his hand out hesitantly, and gave me a nasty look that told me without words to shut the fuck up. He quickly snatched his hand back with a little yelp when the horse snorted, and thought I was going to fall over on the ground laughing.

"You, shut up!" He grabbed a little rock and threw it at me, and it hit my horse instead. "Ah, shit."

"You angered it Roddy, you have incited the wrath of the fucking horse!"

I was laughing so hard and so much that it hurt. That poor woman was looking back and forth at us.

"Excuse me, are you two okay?" She asked, then turned to Rod and chastised him for hitting the horse. He stood there looking like a sorry little boy with his head bowed as his toe scuffling at the dirt.

"Ma'am I'm real sorry it's just see, my friend here is a jackass." Rod jerked his thumb towards me.

"Maybe you two ought to come back some other time to ride our horses." She took the reign of Rod's horse and started to lead it away.

"Oh wait, c'mon miss! We're okay, really we are!" I moved over to her and stroked the shoulder of the brown horse. "We already paid anyway, damn it we want our rides! It's just my friend here is a pussy."

The lady huffed at the use of that word, it probably wasn't my best choice.

"Ric, such language in front of a lady." Roddy shook his head in disapproval.

"Well if you weren't one, then I wouldn't have had to say it. Who ever heard of a grown man afraid of a horse?" I went on, and from the look on Rod's face I could tell I was going to get it later, and I don't mean in a good way.

We managed to convince the woman to let us ride. Roddy still refused though, and protested that horses ought to have sidecars like motorcycles. Try being drunk playing sober, and try not to laugh at that mental image!

"Tell me something, Pipes!" I shouted from up atop my horse. I'd managed to get on it without falling off. "You'll ride a motorcycle with me but not a horse? You know how stupid that is?"

"Horses throw people off and I'm not takin' my chances! I'm a wrestler in case you didn't know, and I can't make my livin' if I'm dead from the neck down!" Roddy shouted right back, scratching at his ear again.

We couldn't have done it better if we were in the ring, although he was missing his kilt and I was absent of my robe. I have to admit though, I liked to egg him on. Roddy was hot when he was crazy, and he was crazy when he was hot, if you know what I mean.

I rolled my eyes. As if you couldn't get fucked up on a motorcycle too.

"Come on Pipes, get up here with me." I extended my hand to him and waited.

After a few moments, he took my hand and I helped him get on behind me. He wrapped his arms around my waist, a little too tightly but I didn't say anything. His chest was pressed into my back and I could feel his heart thundering away. Poor guy, he really was scared. I kind of felt bad for teasing him so much then, but hell, he would have done the same thing to me.

I thought maybe half way through the trail ride, he'd calm down a little, quit breathing hard in my ear, and squishing my guts with his bear-hug vice grip. He never did though, he kept on me like white on rice the whole time even though the horse was just lazily tromping over the worn path. You know, it really was cute. It kind of gets cuter every time I look back on it. I wish I had a picture or something, but I guess in a way I do, it's just up in my head.

After the ride was over, Roddy still insisted he was never getting back on one. I don't think he ever did either, and I don't think it would help even if he was drunk again.

Hey, that doesn't mean we never got to ride together anymore though...cue suggestive wink. But I better be going. Like I said, I wasn't supposed to spill this little jewel. So, do me a favor would you? If you see Roddy, don't say a damn word. You are free to laugh though.

Wooo!


	3. At The Crossroads

_**This stemmed from a chaptered fic called 'Sins of The Father' by Seraphalexiel, xShawnsGuardianAngelx, and wrestlefan4. It was inspired a lot by Sera and her Ric. It's been emotional hell for me.**_

At The Crossroads

So, I guess you can pretty much see that so far the little pieces of our crazy lives Ric and I have shared with you have been the wild times. Sure it's fun to share this stuff, and I bet you all have gotten some great laughs out of it but I mean, it wasn't all just fun and games with us. Yeah, we were rowdy and wild, but sometimes that got us into more trouble than it was worth. There were times when we got into some serious shit. There were plenty of hard times when we just held onto each other, and cried. That's right, I said we cried. I didn't make a habit of it or anything, but I am a human being, I shed tears just like the next person does.

You know, maybe things are different now, but for one thing back then when we started out—and I'm talking about late seventies was when Ric and I first met—it wasn't easy to be two men in that kind of a relationship. That was one of our biggest hardships we had to deal with, really. We had to keep things as close to the chest as possible, that's just how it was. The sixties and seventies had the hippie free love revolution and all that shit, but you've gotta know that even with a lot of people broadening their views on stuff like that, it still wasn't really acceptable, and especially in our line of work. I always found it so weird how so many were secretly into that kind of thing, and yet the same guys who did were the biggest fucking bigots and pricks, going round picking on (or attempting to pick on) guys who wore "skirts" or sequined robes. Hell, they knew better than to push me too far, my temper wasn't nothing less than legendary around the locker room. I wasn't called Hot Scot just for shits and giggles, I was hot-headed. Roddy Piper learned early on not to take shit from people. If you don't fuck the people who fuck you, then you're just gonna spend your whole life on your back being used up, and that sure as hell was never gonna be me.

Anyway, I guess I got off on a little rant there—let me get back to this thing. What I was trying to get across is that Ric and I had all sorts of heavy stuff we had to deal with. It was a different level of craziness than never ending drunk nights, jail stays, Caddy crashes, parties, all that stuff. It seemed like there was rarely anything ho-hum or SSDD with us. The highs were way the fuck out there, and the lows, well they were just about as deep as the darkest pit of the ocean I'd say. Me and him always had to be drastic I guess, but it was good that we'd both found each other like that because no one else would have been able to handle us they way we handled each other.

I know I've kind of said this stuff before, but I don't know. I guess I just want people to get it or something. I'm really not sure. Hell, maybe I'm just still trying to delay this one particular thing here. I want to talk about and get it off my chest real bad, but at the same time, I've never spoke about it to anyone—for years and years. I never even really told Ric how I really felt that day, I just couldn't do it. It's always haunted me that I didn't, because then maybe things would have been different. I thought about sitting him down and doing it now, but now hell, it wouldn't be of any use now.

See, I doubt you all really know this about Ric. Maybe you've heard some of these rumors flapping around about Shawn Michaels and A.J. Styles, you know the ones I mean? Well, you can take it from a man who don't lie (alright, so I might just exaggerate things from time to time, just a little bit…but I sure as hell have no reason to lie to anyone about anything) that those rumors carry truth to them.

That's what this thing is about. I gotta tell you if you stick around for this story, it's not going to be so funny as the last ones. Don't worry, I don't plan to shove every burden of mine off onto you folks, I mostly love telling a good story, one that can make people smile. But I just have to, with things how they are right now, so tense between all three of them, I just have to get this off my chest. It's been eating at me, and I'm tired of it.

When Ric and I had something big to do, we always did it together. I knew Ric would back my ass up through anything. I could count on Ric to stand next to me and never waver, even if I told him we were going to fight a fucking tornado (and no, we never did that in case you're wondering, ha) and Ric knew I'd do the same for him.

Well, Ric took me along when he went to talk with A.J.'s mother. If was hot as fuck that day, I remember that so vividly I'm about to start sweating right now. It had to be one of the hottest damn summers ever, and maybe it was worse because I didn't have such a great feeling about this whole thing. I already knew how Ric felt about having a second child now getting ready to be birthed into his life. There were so many nights I spent up with him, as he cried over it, worried over it, drank himself to shit over it, and everything else. He asked me over and over for my word of advice on it, me having four kids of my own I guess he thought I oughta know something right to say. I mean, I had my own ideas sure. I've always been a strong family man even when me and Kitty called it quits. That's another dark place that came up with me and Ric, but I'm not gonna go into that now. I honestly don't want to think about how that was for me, and some of it I was so fucked up I don't ever remember.

But anyway, even when we weren't an official family anymore I never forgot my kids. See, my dad was a real fucking douche bag—don't even get me started I could go on for a year or more tearing that fucker from one side to the other and then back again. I always told myself I would never be that kind of a person to my kids, if I was gonna do one thing right in my life it was gonna be that. My line of work put me away from my babies a lot but be sure of it that any time I could I was right there. I wish I could have been there more, but I had to do what I had to do to make a living and send off the money to make sure my kids had everything I never got. That's what was always on my mind before every match I ever did after my first daughter was born. From then on it was always for the kiddies. I never missed sending them what they needed, I did whatever I had to do to make sure of it. Any dumb fuck can father a child but you've gotta grow a set and step up to be a father. Even though I was away so much, I still busted my ass trying.

To be honest, my code of manhood told Ric to step up and be a man and do what needed to be done, but I never said that to him. I loved Ric and, well I don't know. I didn't want to push him to do something he didn't really feel convicted to do in his heart. I could have pushed him all day long to take care of his responsibilities but I think he should have done it because he _knew_ that and because he wanted to, not because I was on his back about it or something. So, I never really pushed him too hard be involved in A.J.'s life. A.J.'s mom had made things pretty black and white, but still, I think now that maybe that was wrong of me not to try. If anyone could have gotten through to Ric, it could have been me. I often wonder how things might be different now if I would have said something else or nudged harder, but there's no way to tell. I guess I just feel horrible that A.J. had to grow up without his father in his life, without nothing, when he had a Daddy that despite what he chose—was a good man.

I couldn't imagine having a son, knowing about him, and not ever really knowing him. It just ain't in my nature I guess, but like I said I didn't say much to Ric about it. As ballsy as I was over practically everything, that was one time when I maybe needed to be but chose to back off instead. I just wish I could know if I did right or wrong. I've wanted to try and make up for my part in it, but I don't really know how. I even sent money to A.J. and his momma sometimes when I had some extra, because I still knew where they were, and because I got it. I mean, I knew how it was to be with nothing. I took off from home at thirteen and for most of my teenage years I lived on the street or in and out of youth hostels around Canada. I ate other peoples half eaten food, I played my bagpipes for pennies to try and have a little something, I did a lot of things I'm not proud of now just to survive. I understood A.J.'s mom and their situation in a way Ric couldn't get. Ric's Daddy was a doctor and as far as that goes he had it pretty okay. I understood scratching and scrounging for anything and everything, and it really bothered me when little A.J. and his mom came to my mind and I knew they could use help, that Ric could make things easier on them just by sending a check in the mail, and he didn't.

I'm not trying to demonize Ric here, I love him. Ric's a great guy, he's a hell of a guy. It's just in this part of his life, he kind of missed the mark. I can't put it out to be nicer than this, because it wasn't nice. All I can say is the truth, and Ric gets that. He knows, and he regrets I think, the way things happened. But there's no changing the past just trying to make the best of the twisted thing the past has grown itself into as the now, if that makes any sense. Sometimes I wonder if I do, but I try.

Of course, as I always do I've went and lost track again.

It was summer like I said, so fucking hot. It was that kind of hot that makes the air feel like honey stuck to your skin. I hated it so much, I mean I grew up in a damn tundra so you get the idea! I wasn't made for that stuff. Well, Ric had actually let me drive for once. For some reason he thought I was a reckless driver (let me tell you it was all him) but he was too nervous that day to think about touching the wheel, so I got to man the boat. Ric spent most of the drive quiet as a mouse which was even more awkward, because we always found endless crap to talk about. Usually, our conversations ended up in the gutter, but today there wasn't hardly even a peep out of Ric. I even tried a few times, and ended up holding a conversation with myself.

Ric kept leaning up against the window glass and rubbing at the middle of his forehead like he had a bad headache. His platinum hair fell just over the collar of his shirt, and it was sweaty and stuck together around his temples and some to his forehead. I can't believe how clearly I can remember it all, like I'm still there. He always wore some fancy sunglasses, and they hid the anxiety I knew was in his eyes.

We pulled into the trailer park and Ric let out a long sigh. We were almost there, now just searching for the number that belonged to her. She had bugged Ric, demanding to speak to him personally, until he finally agreed to it. I kept my eyes watching for that number, passing each dusty, desolate looking place. It just felt bad being there, because you could tell it was a place where people either went on struggling from day to day, or had just plain given up.

One place we passed there was a herd of little kids playing out in the yard with grimed up faces, kids that were probably picked on in school for the place they lived in, kids that would probably be here their whole lives. Another there was this old man sitting out in a lawn chair, broken pieces of the lattice work hanging off of the bottom, looked like it would collapse on him at any moment. His steely hair was all swirled up like some sorta sloppy birds nest, and empty cans were scattered all around his feet. He just looked lost, like he didn't give a fuck at all. The whole place just gave off this vibe of desperation, and it didn't feel like it was right to raise a kid there.

We stopped outside the right trailer. It was small and pink, well actually it was more like pink smeared up with pencil smudges. There was a line strung up with clothes hanging off of it, and I noticed one of the windows was busted up, that fix all duct-tape plastered all over it. I waited for Ric to get out, but he just sat there for what seemed like the longest time with his hand white-knuckled around the door handle.

"Pipes…" He finally practically squeaked out.

"Ric, I'm not going with you up there. I'm staying out here in the car, this is all you." I said, watching as his hand moved instead to the lock and toyed with the little lever pushing it up and down. Click, click. Click, click. Click, click.

"I know." He said quietly.

"Well, get your ass out of here then!" I reached over him and opened the door for him, and practically shoved him out of the car.

With a frustrated sigh, I closed the door as he stood there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks, and prodded the toe of his shoe into the tall grass. I rolled the windows down, needing some air in there—did I mention it was hotter than the devils asshole that day? Well, it was.

I was just about to get out of the car, drag Ric up the steps, knock on the door, then bolt back for the car like some horrible, twisted prank but finally I didn't have to. Ric dawdled, but he eventually got up to the door. He knocked a few times, waited shifting from foot to foot, knocked again, and finally came back to the car. He leaned in through the rolled down window and ran a trembling hand through his hair.

"Roddy, I don't think she's home man. Let's…let's just go."

"She wouldn't have had you come all this way out here about something like this if she wasn't gonna be here for it."

Ric shook his head.

"I…don't know if I can…" He choked up, dropping his head a little, and a couple tears rolled out from beneath those dark tinted glasses.

Ric felt bad about it, I do believe that. Like I said, I spent so many nights up with him bawling like a baby on me, that I knew. It wasn't some cold-hearted snap decision he made, he agonized over it. In the end you know what he picked, and that was what Ric had to live with for so many years.

"Pipes, let's just go." Ric pulled the door open, and had his butt just about halfway onto the seat when the front door creaked opened. A small little lady with dark hair and a big pregnant belly moved out onto the porch. She reminded me a lot of my Kitty, actually. Ric sighed heavily. He turned and moved towards her, shuffling his feet and kicking dust up on his good shoes. He ran a hand through his fluffy platinum hair.

I couldn't hear most of what they said, and didn't want to. I wasn't there to eavesdrop or nose into anyone elses business, that's not my way. I did hear it when they started to get loud though, there wasn't any not hearing then.

_I'm not going to have you popping in and out of my sons life, being nothing in his mind but a dog-eared photo that he wishes was real—a strangers face that haunts his dreams and leaves him crying in the dark. No Ric, no. I don't care who you are, I don't care if you're the King of the Universe, it doesn't matter! You're either going to be a father to my boy, or you're not. You're in, or you're out. I'm not going to torture my son's life with a ghost._

The last of her words wobbled just a little bit. I could tell just from hearing their shouted tremble that she was doing her best to keep a brave heart, and not let the tears fall. My own head was hung sadly as the loud part of the conversation unfolded, and I'd tried to occupy myself with picking at the leather steering wheel cover rather than glancing up to the porch where the two figures stood. Just for a moment, I did though. Her small form was squared strong and proudly, and Ric was slumped and pitiful. I have never seen him rendered so powerless. I have never seen Ric look as defeated as he did that day, and even now, it brings tears to my eyes.

Ric came back to the car, his shoulders fallen, his head bowed. He slipped into the seat and more slick trails made way down his cheeks. I reached over and took his hand, and he squeezed mine.

"Thanks Pipes." He said quietly, his voice nearly stopped up with emotion. "I…I wanna get out of here."

So, I got Ric out of there. He was real quiet the rest of the trip. The only other thing he asked me was 'Did I do the right thing?' and I felt like a douchebag because I couldn't bring myself to give him an answer. Seems like a lot of times in life, we never really know anything. I think lotsa times in life we just have to pick a way, pay the tolls as we go, and hope that once we reach the end of that long stretch, we're not damned for reading the map wrong, and getting lost.

Yeah, I guess that's how I see it, at least. As for Ric, he's not a bad man, not by a long shot. He just took the wrong exit a couple of times, and then he couldn't go back.


	4. Saturday Night

**A/N: So, wow. I was listening to my Lynyrd Skynyrd hits CD today and just got SLAMMED with inspiration for crazy Roddy, Ric, and Ricky. (Otherwise known as The 3 Musketeers—coined by the wonderful Moussy.) So before you read, let me give a little explanation. There are four parts and they're based on different songs (see titles) of Lynyrd Skynyrd, but they go together to make a complete story. PLEASE you should listen to these songs either before, as, or after you read. They're all great songs and it'll be a lot of fun. Songs used: Gimme Three Steps, Saturday Night Special, Simple Man, and Call Me The Breeze. Thanks for reading :-) Sorry for lag in updates, lots of things going on. Enjoy!

* * *

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**A Flair For Rowdiness: Saturday Night**

~x~

*Gimme Three Steps*

~x~

Music drifted out from the honkytonk, it was Saturday night and it was the perfect place to be, full of some liquor, need, and meanness. Outside the broken neon sign read simply 'The Jug' and outside in the gravel parking lot, gaggles of big, beat-up, pick-ups crammed the lot, and in among them like the proverbial rose among thorns, was a shiny, burnt orange Caddy, the chrome winking like glimmering eyeballs in the night. Inside the jukebox was loud, the floor and walls vibrating with the likes of Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, Jerry Lewis, Elvis, Charlie Daniels, Hank Williams Jr., had been popular selections of song that night, some of them more fit for drowning in a tall glass of beer, and some more fit for dancing on tables. The song currently rattling the walls was lively and hot, and had nearly everyone who could still stand (and many who couldn't) up to their feet and moving.

In the crowd of Southerners—big men with tight jeans, large arms, and even larger cowboy hats—just like in the parking lot, was one man who stood out from the others. It might have been the baby blue suit with the wide collar that was so out of place, or maybe it was the pretty bleached hair, or the way this man looked a lot more like a woman than like one of the men in those parts. It didn't seem to bother the ladies, though, who might have enjoyed for once seeing something that wasn't streaked with dirt and smelling like tobacco juice. Women had been clinging to him all night, cute little brunettes, fiery red heads, buxom blondes, as if he was the prize to be won at the county fair. He took it all with a smug smile and a rambunctious conversation, and he bought them all drinks as if he own the bar, and one-hundred more just like it. At that moment, however, he was up from his stool having left behind a group of pouting females and more than a few empty bottles and shot glasses. He'd taken one of the ladies out to the floor to dance, one who'd said her name was Linda, and damn could she dance.

Her dancing was more like vertical sex, and it almost made Ric blush to have her rubbing and rolling against him the way she was. _Almost._ He watched her with lustful eyes her body undulated, her hips rolling and snapping, her ample chest heaving and bobbing, her long, beautiful legs shimmying and swaying her ass when she turned. Damn, just damn this woman was fine. Ric moved closer to her, still keeping the beat of the fast-paced song himself, and their bodies melded together, her ass pressed up into his fiery groin. He let out a low moan as she moved it against him, the firm globes through her tight dress pressing and sweeping against the hardness that was steadily growing and tightening his pants. He gripped her hips, and pressed into her, only to have her push back just as hard, still moving, still rubbing, still making him sweat and curse and fit to explode.

"Je-zus!" Ric panted, he was almost ready to just plant her on a table, wrap her long, gorgeous legs around his waist, and have his way with her right there. No one, no one ever danced like this, it was far too risqué and racy, and Ric decided in the back of his sex-fogged mind, that there needed to be more of it. People were just too damn straight-laced. "Fuck, baby you keep on goin' much longer and—woo…you're gonna get a ride on Space Mountain." He hands moved up and down her thighs, one sneaking up her short dress, pushing it up on her hot legs. He let his hand rest beneath the tight, stretchy fabric, against her curvy hip, the tips of his fingers just brushing against the thin band of her panties.

Suddenly, Ric's beautiful world was interrupted by a tap to his shoulder. Annoyed, he simply shrugged it away. No doubt some other man wanted to cut in and get a piece of the action, and Ric was just not having it. This hot little number was his for the night. His fingertips wrapped around the band he'd been toying with and slipped it down just a little, hearing the low, saucy, giggle from the dancing goddess as he did so.

The tap on his shoulder came again, harder this time. Aggravated, Ric spun around, ready to do battle over this woman and kick some ass…but he stopped. He was looking dead center into the wide, heaving chest of a man. He tilted his face upwards, and paled. This man was fucking _huge._ Ric gulped, if possible going even paler, when the man drew a gun from his side and made sure that Ric saw it.

"Hey there fella." The enormous, corn-fed, man drawled. He smiled, but not happily, revealing rows of dingy teeth, the crevasses dark brown with tobacco juice. "You uh, tryin' to prove somethin' here, 'cause I dunno if you know it or not, but this here's _my _woman, and I don't see fit to sharin' her with _no one._"

As if he needed to make his point any clearer, he cocked the gun with a click that seemed to be the only sound in the room. Even though the jukebox still blared, it seemed a million miles away, the lively warbles and twangs muffled by thick wads of cotton.

Ric tried not to show his fear, but it was hard to do when he was shaking. This man could easily take him without aid of weapon, but the fact that he was looking at the shiny barrel of his gun as though he was ready to have a love affair with it, made Ric feel like whimpering and begging at his booted feet for mercy. Instead, he was frozen there like an idiot, eyes wide, quivering like a rubber band stretched too tight and ready to pop.

The crowd had cleared away from the dance floor, and someone had turned the music down. There was a new form of entertainment all of a sudden; the city boy was about to get his ass shot full of holes for rubbing up against the wrong gal.

"Listen sir, I was just about to hit the door, anyway." Ric said, his feet still failing to move. He chewed at his lip as the big ape moved the gun way to close to Ric's face, his sickish grin growing wider.

"Oh, I know'd you was son, you just ain't movin' there quite fast enough."

"I'm going!" Ric shrieked.

"Then fuckin' MOVE!"

"Bubba, don't hurt 'em!" The woman pleaded, just as 'Bubba' had wrapped his hand around Ric's neck. As soon as she whined, his hand uncoiled from Ric's throat and he turned to his woman brandishing the gun and yelling at her. That was Ric's chance, and his feet decided it was time to work. He turned on his heels and all but flew from the bar as the crowd behind him burst out into gales of laughter. His heart pounded up into his ears as his feet skidded and flew over the loose gravel outside. He dove for his Caddy and sped it out of the lot, throwing bits of rock and kicking up a cloud of dust as he left, thanking anything that would listen for sparing his pretty self from becoming target practice. A bit down the road, he dared to glance in his rearview mirror. There was a pick-up speeding after him, quickly closing the gap of distance between them.

"Shit!" Ric cursed, and stepped on the accelerator.

~x~

*Saturday Night Special*

~x~

On the other side of town, Roddy found himself a bit of his own trouble. Normally he and Ric would be out together raising ten kinds of hell, but that night Ric had decided to go off on his own. Sometimes Ric just got that way, and Roddy understood. Even between the two of them and their similar high-octane personalities, even they needed the occasional break from one another. Of course, when they got back they would spend what little night was left telling stories of whatever insanities they'd drummed up for the evening. Each would go on trying to outdo the other, both complete drama queens, as Ricky would be grumbling and stuffing a pillow over his head in attempts to drown out the two boisterous voices shouting in competition to be heard over one another.

As for right now though, the night was still young.

Roddy had spent the night downtown flitting from one dark, crowded bar, to the next. Each journey seemed to be just a bit more stable than the last, and he was glad when he found himself in bed with a pretty woman. They'd walked to her place as he'd told her all sorts of stories about his adventures—some real and some complete yarns—(although it would have been hard to tell a difference in which was which) as he stole kisses and copped generous feels of her curvy body. They were tangled up in bed, panting and groaning, exploring each others sticky, hot, bodies, when the bedroom door creaked open. Roddy didn't notice, but the woman on top of him did and with an 'oh fuck!' she rolled off of him and grabbed a sheet from the bed to cover herself with. Roddy sat up quickly, his eyes going wide when they landed on the man filling the doorframe. In his hand was a .38 and it was pointed at you know who.

Roddy fell out of bed and fumbled on the floor for his pants, cursing and offering up stuttered apologies. He didn't remember seeing any gold on that woman's finger and she'd just failed to mention that she was married or living with someone, wasn't that convenient? He scrambled into his jeans, stumbling and tripping towards the door as the man moved over to the woman crouched in the shadowy corner of the room. He turned back to Roddy, and growled over his shoulders.

"Get the fuck outta my house, 'fore I put you six feet in a hole!"

Roddy dashed out of the house, holding his undone jeans in one fist to keep them from piling around his ankles. His bare feet cut throw the lawn and over the rough street. He wasn't sure where he was running to, but it was far from there. He ran until he couldn't breathe any longer, until the bottoms of his feet burned, and his knees ached. He doubled over against a brick building pulling in gasps of air, his hands shaking as he tried to fix up his pants, the memory of that gun flashing in the eager hand only moments ago still too fresh for his liking.

He leaned up against the wall and glanced at his other hand. Balled up in the fist was his t-shirt, which he hadn't even remembered grabbing off the floor. After he'd caught his breath and calmed down, he slipped it on over his head and ran a hand through his mussed, sweat-slick hair. He rounded the corner to find that the building he'd been leaning up against was a bar—and hell, did he need a drink! He padded into the place, and no one seemed to notice or care that he was mysteriously barefooted. He parked himself on a stool at the bar and ordered a tall beer, in an icy glass mug, and drank most of it down on the first go. After a couple more he was calmed and back to himself, the incident with the woman put to the back of his mind for a tale to tell Ric later.

As the night wore on, he got himself into a game of poker, and put away a few more drinks. Despite the way things had started out for him, luck seemed to have turned to his side and he cleaning house, each hand seeming to be better than the last. He was wrapped up in what he was doing, grinning, and bragging about it in a way that showed he was truly deserving of the 'Rowdy' tacked onto his name. He didn't notice that the big man sitting across from him at the table was getting agitated as his constant losses. The guy had been drinking whisky all night, and when he growled out angrily in Roddy's direction, the waft of strong liquor flooded Roddy's senses and he made it into a big joke. The joked however only lasted a few moments, as the huge, dark hand, knotted his shirt up and jerked him up from his chair.

"Cheat!" The giant man bellowed, the whisky hitting Roddy enough to make his eyes cross.

"Nah, now wait a minute here, King Kong…ha, I may be a lot a' things but a cheat ain't one of 'em!"  
The man shook Roddy like a doll and Roddy tried to struggle away, thinking sincerely about biting the meaty arm, but he stopped cold when something hard poked into his belly. He laughed nervously, his quick wit being too stupid to shut up as it had a habit of doing.

"Ha, well either you're ah…see gettin' a real thrill outta this, or you're maybe 'bout to make the ol' Piper into some Swiss cheese there, pal." Roddy grinned at him, and he wasn't sure why, because he felt like screaming inside.

"What I'm 'bout to make you into, is a dead fucking smart-ass fag!"

The man cocked his pistol and Roddy raked at his eyes, in a last ditch effort to survive yet another attempt on his life in the same night. A howl came from the big man and miraculously, Roddy was dropped to his feet. He quickly swiped some of his winning from the table and darted for the door, finding himself once again on the run. He should have grabbed his beer, and taken that with him too.

~x~

*Simple Man*

~x~

Ricky leaned back against the pillows that he'd propped up against the headboard of his bed. It was another quiet night, and he relished the time alone that he had. He loved his friends, but they clashed against him like cymbals sometimes. He was a quiet, laid back, sort of guy who wasn't looking for any adventures, just a peaceful path in life that would lead him to happiness; a common mans sort of image for his life.

He didn't want to spend his nights out in loud clubs, stinking bars, and rough honkytonks. They were too noisy, too crowded, and too apt for trouble. He didn't want to push the speed limit, or have to worry about the baggies of weed stuffed under the seats in the car, or find himself laid out on a thin mattress in a jail cell at night. Those just weren't his ways, and for his conservative manner he was ribbed and called straight-laced, wet-blanket, killjoy, spoilsport, and Roddy's personal favorite 'Grandma Ricky'. He let them all roll of his shoulders, letting Ric and Roddy and anyone else have their fun. He could bear their teasing, it didn't bother him one bit. He would rather be thought of as boring than to end up burned out and broke down like many of his constantly partying friends. It was a common practice in the business, and his lack of partaking in the activities often left him to spend quiet, solitary nights in hotel rooms across the country. That was just fine with Ricky, he'd rather just sip a soda and watch the t.v., or maybe read a good book by Tolkien or C.S. Lewis. Both of those were popular authors, so he couldn't be that much of a square, right? Well, maybe he was but it didn't matter.

He swirled his grape Nehi and watched the purple liquid cascade and swoosh around the glass bottle. The second book in the Lord of The Rings series sat on his knee, holding his place just as the Ents of Fangorn were gathering for their counsel. If he wanted adventures, then he could have them this way. He could get lost in these fantasy worlds, and see through the eyes of Frodo, or Pippin, or Gandalf. He could trek though the thick, dark, trees of Mirkwood, pick his way carefully through the deep and ghostly Mines of Moria, and ride with the Rohirrim over the grassy planes of Rohan. That was enough for Ricky.

Ricky stopped to smell the roses that Ric and Roddy trampled on in their haste to get to the next crazy scene in their play of never ending insanity. His mother had always told her son, when he was young, that he ought to aspire to be a simple kind of man. She was fond of saying "Take your time, don't live too fast. Troubles will come, and troubles will pass". As he grew older and became a man, she assured him with the same smile and gentle touches that she always had, that he would find himself love, and that he ought not to set his eyes on the rich things of the world. Everything he needed, she said, was already in his soul, and that's all he needed to be satisfied.

He closed his eyes just then, rested up against the headboard of the bed, and he could hear as though she was speaking with him on the phone sat next to his bed. No, as if she was sat on the bed with him. It was good to recall her voice when he was alone like this, taking a break from his book and his silly grape soda, to question himself about the things he desired from life.

_Boy, don't you worry, you'll find yourself.  
Follow your heart, and nothing else.  
And you can do this, oh baby, if you try.  
All that I want for you my son,  
Is to be satisfied._

_And be a simple kind of man.  
Be something you love and understand.  
Baby be a simple, kind of man.  
Oh, won't you do this for me son,  
If you can._

It was good advice, and whether it was due to her words or not, it had become the kind of life that he led. Ricky yawned, and swallowed down the last of his Nehi. He placed the empty bottle next to the phone on the nightstand and he glanced over at the t.v. He thought about getting up to turn it on, and see if Three's Company or The Love Boat was on. After a moment of consideration, he decided that he would rather go back to the Ents, than take a visit with Jack, Chrissy, and Janet at the Regal Beagle. He'd just gotten back into the fantasy of Middle Earth, spelled out so beautifully on the pages of the book, when he was startled back out of it.

~x~

*They Call Me The Breeze*

~x~

Roddy bounded into the room, nearly tripping over his own naked feet as he did so. Ricky regarded him wide-eyed, almost afraid to know what had happened this time. Perhaps the FBI was after him for impersonating the president; Jimmy Carter. Then again, maybe a lion was chasing him, or maybe he'd been abducted by a UFO and anal probed. The last thought—all of them ridiculously outlandish—almost sent Ricky into a fit of giggles. Had Roddy not looked so frantic, he would have at least chuckled, but the gravity on Roddy's face was too heavy and canceled out any shred of amusement Ricky might have been able to have. He let out a long sigh, his eyes closed, feeling a headache coming on.

"Ricky, come on man, we gotta go!" Roddy tugged on Ricky's wrist, but the dark-haired man made no move to get up.

"What is it now Roddy? Are the police after you? Don't tell me-"

"No, it ain't the cops. Just come on!" Roddy gave Ricky's wrist another tug, but seeing he was getting nowhere, he abandoned it. He sped around the room quickly grabbing up his clothes from the various places he'd flung them and stuffed them wrinkled and wadded—to Ricky's annoyance—into his suitcase.

"That's shirt belongs to Ric…" Ricky started, waving his finger at one of the pieces.

"Ah, well, we'll get it sorted later." Roddy shrugged, and stuffed a few more things into the suitcase. Ricky blinked, moving towards the foot of the bed to get a closer look at Roddy's feet.

"Where are your shoes?"

"In some lady's bedroom." He said, matter of factly.

"What-"

Ricky was interrupted this time by their third counterpart barging into the room, in a manner not too dissimilar from Roddy's, though Ric still had his shoes on.

"Oh god, oh Roddy, oh Ricky!" Ric went straight to Roddy. "Fuck Pipes, come on we gotta go!"

"You too?" Roddy asked, with a little laugh, and he sat on his suitcase in an effort to get it zipped up all the way.

Ricky rubbed at his temples.

"Would anyone mind telling me-"

"No!" Roddy shouted, bouncing on his suitcase and throwing curses at it.

"No time, Steamy." Ric added, dragging his own luggage to the door. "We gotta hit the road. I don't know about you Pipes, but I wore out my welcome in this one-horse town."

Roddy nodded in agreement with Ric and grabbed Ricky, dragging him towards the door. Ricky sputtered, unbelieving what these two men could have possibly done.

"We've only been here a few hours!" Ricky nearly shrieked, as Roddy shoved him out the door, followed by Ricky's suitcase. "Hey, wait, my book is still in there!"

"Aw, don't worry kid." Ric patted Ricky's shoulder. "I'll get you a new one, I promise. But really, we _have _to go. I've got a man with gun after me!" Ric took off down the hallway, followed on his heels by Roddy.

"A gun!" Ricky hollered, lugging his suitcase after the other two.

Roddy turned to Ric, as Ric grabbed a wad of cash from his pocket and dumped it onto the front desk.

"What a coincidence, Ric." Roddy laughed, turning his own pockets inside out and leaving his share of the room bill in crumpled money and lint. He and Ric headed for the doors as Ricky called after them.

"What in the—what did you two do! You weren't even together!" Ricky yelled after them, grumbling as he stopped at the desk to give his third of the payment. He opened his wallet and counted the bills, then laid them neatly on the desk next to the two sloppy, crinkled, piles. "I'm so sorry about this, ma'am." He assured the annoyed looking woman at the desk. "My friends, you see, they're idiots." He grabbed some of the money from Roddy's pile and began to straighten it, attempting to smooth it out.

"Where's Ricky?" Roddy asked, as he tossed his suitcase in the trunk of the Caddy, after Ric's three.

"Shit, he's still in there. What in the hell is he doing? I've got a man after me that wants make me into-"

"Swiss cheese." Roddy finished, as he and Ric dashed back into the hotel lobby.

"Ricky, what the fuck man?" Ric grabbed Ricky's wrist, and Roddy grabbed his suitcase, and both were tossed into the backseat.

Ric stepped on the gas, as Ricky protested and demanded to know just what was going on and why they were letting out of town like bats out of hell. It was well past midnight and Ricky was tired, without a pillow, and also without his book, he reminded them.

"Ric's gonna get you a new one." Roddy reminded him. "Don't ya worry your pretty little head over it." He smiled back at Ricky, and Ricky shook his head and lay over against his suitcase, wondering if he'd ever get the stories from either one of them. Ric careened onto the interstate, and turned on the radio. Lynyrd Skynyrd came over the radio with a fast tempo song that followed the car on its late night escape.

_They call me the breeze,  
I keep blowin' down the road.  
Well now they call me the breeze,  
I keep blowin' down the road.  
I ain't got me nobody,  
I don't carry me no load._

_Ain't no change in the weather,  
Ain't no changes in me.  
Well there ain't no change in the weather,  
Ain't no changes in me. _


End file.
